Clocks
by Mrs.Scott323
Summary: Jibbs. Time had passed, but what changed? post JD but with a little change of certain events.


**_I'm insanely busy with university right now, but I did find some time to finish this oneshot._**

**_this one is for Aly. :)_**

Clocks

_Lights go out and I can't be saved  
__Tides that I tried to swim against  
__You've put me down upon my knees  
__Oh I beg, I beg and please, singin'_

Twenty something years had passed. And the feeling hadn't changed. The very same feeling he'd had when his Shannon had died had returned again. In full force. But this time, it was another woman, another redhead but also a women he definitely couldn't call his. She'd taken that right away from him years ago.

In his mind, he'd kept it all that time.

From a safe distance he'd watched as her parental home went up in flames. Flames he'd once associated with her temper. Flames he'd seen burn inside her eyes when she was angry.

Usually because of him.

He'd loved to see her like that, all fired up. Now, he wished that somehow he would have another chance. Another opportunity to fix everything that had gone wrong between them.

_Come out of things unsaid  
__Shoot, an apple off my head.  
__And the  
__Trouble that cant be named  
__The tiger's waiting to be tamed singin'_

_You are  
__You are_

He'd never realised that she'd been alone too. At her funeral, there were no relatives digging up memories, remembering funny anecdotes, telling how much they'd miss her. There was just a sa formal affair. Many friends, co workers and other people attended. In the front row, her closest friends and her (even if she would have never admitted it) favourite team.

Gibbs heard the thumps of sand, coming down on her coffin.That snapped him out of his own memories. People started to leave around him. Taking one last look at the final resting place of the first Female Director of NCIS. For a moment he wanted to stay, watch over her. But he knew it wasn't really appropriate, and just like last time he walked away from the site, Abby by his side, some jazzy tune filling the air around them.

Later that day he returned. This time with three simple flowers. One sunflower, he left that one on Kelly's grave. His little girl had always been a ray of sunshine. One rose, that one he laid on the grave next to Kelly's. Shannon's grave. His first love, and for a really long time his only love.

The last flower ended on the only grave without a headstone. Jenny's grave. The woman who'd made him open up his heart again, entered it, and never left. Her stubbornness made him believe in love again. She pushed him to realise his fears, even if she never fully understood what she'd done. She challenged him, in a way no one had ever done before. Seeking trouble even more than he usually did, but always finding a way to get them out of it.

He put the last flower, a beautiful white gardenia in the dark sand. Without a word he turned and left the graveyard. Still unable to stay there longer than absolutely necessary.

_Confusion never stops  
__Closing walls and ticking clocks  
__Gonna come back and take you home  
__I could not stop but you now know, singin'_

Gibbs closed the bedroom door behind him. Finally the day had come to an end. After all the bickering his team had done he could use a good night sleep.

A week had passed since the funeral, seven days, 168 hours. Give or take a few.

He felt too tired to work on his boat, just this once he stayed out of his basement and took a nightcap. Bourbon, as usual.

Rubbing his eyes he walked into the bedroom. The headache preventing him from turning the lights on. He took his shirt, pants and socks off and crawled into bed. When his head touched the pillow he felt something unfamiliar. Something made of paper.

Even though he knew it would hurt, he turned the light on his night stand on. He pulled the paper from underneath his head. Then he felt the smooth surface. It wasn't a paper, it was a picture. A picture he knew very well.

It was the one from Serbia, the one he'd returned to her when he'd left for Mexico.

And if he remembered correctly, that had been the only copy.

He turned the photograph around, he found a small stain that looked a lot like the one he'd left on his copy of the picture, when he'd spilled a few drops of bourbon on it.

Could it really be the same one? And who could've left it there?

Was someone trying to mess with his head? Somewhere he hoped that there was that small possibility that it had been Jenny who'd left the picture on his pillow. Even though he knew it wasn't possible. She was dead, buried six feet under. No one could've survived being shot like that.

Still, there was that small voice inside him that told him to call Mike, check on his side of the story again. If there was even the slightest chance that Jenny could still be alive he'd take it, and he'd find her. Bring her back home to her family. Even if it was a slightly dysfunctional one.

_Come out upon my seas,  
__Curse missed opportunities  
__Am I a part of the cure  
__Or am I part of the disease, singin'_

Somewhere, sitting at the side of a lake, a woman was reading an old worn out version of To Kill a Mockingbird. One she'd read a million times before, but not in the last four years. She'd never found the time in those last years. It felt nice to sit down and relax for once.

Even though her body might have been relaxed, her mind was spinning with thoughts. Thoughts about her family, her friends and the man she'd left behind. She kept repeating to herself that she didn't have a choice, that it had to be done, but still, there was doubt gnawing on her, like mice on cheese.

She slammed her book shut, not able to concentrate any longer. Jenny looked out over the water.

Had he seen the photograph on his pillow?

Did he understand the hint?

And what was he doing right now?

More than a hundred miles away Gibbs leaned over the railing, looking down on the squad room and his team. But the images never registered in his mind. He had other things to think about, his phone call to Mike hadn't been very informative. His old boss hadn't let anything slip. Just one sentence, one simple line.

"Probie, if I know one thing about women is that they are a mystery, and that nothing ever is what it seems."

He hadn't even caught the last thing Mike had said before he disconnected the call.

_Someone with that many ex-wives should know that by now._

Gibbs walked down the stairs. Remembering the conversation they once had on those very steps.

"_The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself. Second best? Tell one other person, if you must. There is no third best."_

He always used to think that he was her 'other person'. The person she'd trust with things that bothered her. But now, it looked like he he'd been replaced a long time ago.

He raised his look to the sky, talking to Jenny like he'd done much too often these last days.

'Why did you feel like you couldn't trust me? I trusted you didn't I? Who do you think is the one I am still able to trust with anything?

_You are, you are  
__You are, you are  
__You are, you are_

Jenny smiled as she looked out her window, out over the water again. Just like she'd done two months ago. Two months ago, she'd give him that very first hint. The very first sign after her disappearance. Today, she'd sent him a new one. A hint about her location. Caught inside a riddle. If he understood it, he would find her soon.

And secretly, she couldn't wait until that moment. She just hoped he liked flowers.

Gibbs found a vase on his dinner table, an arrangement of orchids filled it. He searched for a card, secretly hoping, secretly knowing who sent them.

Finally he pulled a small white card out of the leaves:

_Time passes and the winds change.  
__Some things never do.  
__Did you know the view is as beautiful as it was back then?_

He stared at the card the entire night. Trying to figure out what she could've meant with it. He was sure it was her who sent it. He would've recognized that handwriting anywhere.

The next morning he brought it along to NCIS headquarters. Maybe the surroundings would trigger some kind of memory. He looked at the card almost every fifteen minutes. Glaring at Tony, Ziva and McGee when they caught him staring at it again.

There had to be something in that first line. _Time passes and the winds change._ Time passes, and as beautiful as it was back then, so it had to be somewhere they'd been before. The winds change. Somewhere windy? A location with wind in the name?

Finally it all clicked. How could he have missed that? The only two weeks off they'd been able to spend together. On the side of a beautiful lake and then there had been that change of weather. Winds so hard that made it impossible to walk outside.

Back then, neither of them had cared about that, they had already found something fun to spend their time doing.

He smiled, nothing else compared to that short vacation.

Nothing at all.

_Nothing else compares.  
__Oh, no nothing else compares  
__Oh, no nothing else compares_

Suddenly, a car drove up her driveway. She saw the sunlight reflect on the windows. She couldn't see who was inside it, but she knew it has to be him. It could only be him.

He got out of the car, and she stepped out of the front door. He is stunned for a moment. Even after her messages, he still couldn't believe she was still alive, breathing, standing in front of him. Just as beautiful as she'd been the last time he'd seen her.

With a look that didn't betray a thing he quickly walked over to her, and she started to apologise, telling him that there was no other way. That it had to be done, and that she didn't tell him because his grief had to look real. To secure both their safety.

He cut her off somewhere in her rant and kissed her, weaving his hand through her hair. The fingers of his other hand traced her curves, like he thought he'd never be able to do again. When they finally break their kiss he looked around the front porch, and through the windows. Clearly remembering. She smiled brilliantly and said:

"Welcome home."

_You are  
__You are_

_Home, home where I wanted to go  
__Home, home where I wanted to go  
__Home, home where I wanted to go  
__Home, home where I wanted to go _


End file.
